Gain more fame;
Proliferate your name;
Stimulate little joy;
Forget what you're.
The culture all the same;
Facilitating professional gain;
At the ruins of life;
At the cost of furies and cries.
Mornings are running in vain;
All noons are lazy sights;
Look, evening no more excites;
Neither happy all these nights.
Anomic this is train;
Pathless all these aims;
Circular path of strive;
Work all too work;
Consumes the spirit of life.
Replicating all the same;
Evenings are no more Zen;
Without passion what is life?
Productions of miseries and strives.
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